


Lacy Knickers and Heaps of Embarrassment

by HookedOnaFeeling89 (cherrydottedjumpers)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrydottedjumpers/pseuds/HookedOnaFeeling89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock/Molly prompt meme fill : Established Sherlock/Molly. Molly living at 221B with Sherlock and John. While Sherlock and John are out of town on a case, Molly is left at 221B by herself. One night she decides to hang around the flat in nothing but a tanktop and underwear, while listening to Glee music. As she’s singing and dancing around the flat, Sherlock and John walk in on her. Lots of embarrassment by Molly and John, and perhaps a dash of possessive irritation by Sherlock that John saw Molly in her underwear. </p>
<p>First time writer here :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacy Knickers and Heaps of Embarrassment

Molly considered this a successful day, well nearly successful. There was still the matter of tidying up after sequential ‘girls nights in’ with John’s girlfriend Mary and Mrs. Hudson. John and Sherlock had been away on a case for almost two weeks, something to do with a grizzly triple homicide. As Molly surveyed the flat she thought it didn’t look too bad and certainly shouldn’t take that long, but Molly abhorred housework of any kind. Her usual solution was to blare her Glee play list, sing along, and dance around in an undershirt and knickers. Well she was the only occupant in the flat and would be for a few more days so clothing was optional, but it was a bit late and unlike Sherlock she cared about the others in the building. Sighing she went to her and Sherlock’s shared bedroom to retrieve her iPod and headphones. While in the room she stripped down to a tiny tank top, a lacy black bra and matching knickers. The fancy undergarments weren’t for anyone in particular, they never had been. She bought and wore them because they made her feel pretty. The music made the work seem easier and she wouldn’t feel so alone while the songs played. The only downside to the music was the fact that Molly was entirely engrossed in it, so engrossed in fact that Molly missed when her mobile went off alerting her to a new text. A text from Sherlock telling her the case had been solved and they would be home shortly. Molly continued to dance in blissful ignorance putting dishes away, mock singing into the broom handle, picking up and sticking various movies and books back in their proper places.

John had had just about enough of Sherlock by this point. Eleven days in close quarters with a manic Consulting Detective was enough to drive a saint to the point of violence and John was far from sainthood. Also Molly wasn’t answering either of their texts, which did nothing to help Sherlock’s mood. Mycroft’s surveillance assured that she was in the flat, so she hadn’t been kidnapped, that was a good thing. John hazarded a glance in Sherlock’s direction. 

“Well maybe she just switched it off. Not everyone’s as attached to their mobile as you are.” 

The look Sherlock sent him suggested that if looks could kill John would be six feet under. John put his hands in the air in a sign of defeat and went back to staring out the window. They were silent the rest of the way home. 

Molly looked around the flat once more and breathed a sigh of relief. Her work was done; the flat was clean or at least as clean as it could be with Sherlock Holmes as a resident. She went to pull out her headphones, but before she could ‘Teenage Dream’ started playing, her absolute favorite to dance along to. 

“One more song won’t hurt anyone,” she mused aloud to the empty flat.

Molly put the headphones back in her ears, started the song over and began to dance enthusiastically, unaware of the boys early arrival.

Mercifully the cab pulled up to Baker Street and John practically leapt out, leaving Sherlock to take care of the cab fare and their bags. He unlocked the front door, took the stairs two at a time, and swung the door open. John noted that Molly was okay. She was more than okay her back was to him, too preoccupied to notice his abrupt entrance. Her hands slid down her body sensuously, stopping at her hips, her bum swaying suggestively to music he was unable to hear. John had been seeing quite a bit of Molly since she moved in months ago. He didn’t mind at all, Sherlock was turning into more of an actual human being under her gentle influence. As his eyes followed the trail of her hands and movement of her hips oddly enough John found himself agreeing with Sherlock, Molly Hooper’s wardrobe did do her body a great disservice. Molly’s loose fitting trousers and blouses hid a trim waist, nice bum, and shapely legs. John shook his head to clear it, now that was way too much to notice about his flat mate’s girlfriend, or was he still calling her his Pathologist, John couldn’t remember if Sherlock was still skirting around that word or not.

Sherlock watched as John exited the cab, his friend seemed even more determined to get away from him than usual. He didn’t know why, he was vaguely aware that his behaviour had been abominable but that was per usual. His mood was made worse by that fact that Molly had stopped responding to his text messages. Sherlock was puzzled and a bit worried. He had enemies and knew that being associated with him was dangerous. He and John had been shot at, stabbed, kidnapped, and drugged numerous times; it wasn’t anything he ever wanted Molly to experience. Although that wasn’t something he needed to worry about right now as Mycroft had informed him that Molly was safe and sound in the flat. For once Sherlock welcomed his older brother’s over-bearing interference, despite the fact that it was still marginally annoying. So why had Molly stopped answering him, as far as he knew they parted on good terms, very good terms. She understood his work would take him away for extended periods of time, it wasn’t anything personal. He had even remembered to text her informing her of his continued existence to which she had replied “good” or “Stay that way I love you. Come home soon.” Shouldn’t she be happy that he was returning earlier than expected? On the other hand she wasn’t answering John either, so it couldn’t be him. Sighing loudly he reached for his wallet paying the cabbie and retrieving both their bags, he decided he would be nice and carry John’s bag inside, but he was going to leave it at the bottom of the stairs, smirking to himself, he wasn’t that nice. Just as he was about to toss John’s bag he heard a yelp that was distantly Molly, Sherlock dropped both bags and bounded up the stairs.

Molly put her hand on her chest and exclaimed, “Oh god, John you scared me.” 

Her eyes tried to meet his but he had both hands covering his face and he was muttering a string of apologies. Now why was he doing that he didn’t do anything wrong, then it dawned on her, horror struck her delicate features as she looked down and realized just how little she had on. Her face colored a rather alarming shade of pink and she began sputtering apologies of her own as she turned around searching for Sherlock’s discarded dressing gown, it was just on the sofa a few moments ago. 

Sherlock burst into the flat moments later scanning the room looking for any signs of danger. All he saw was Molly turned, bent over the sofa searching for something, she was wearing a tiny tank top and her favorite lacy knickers he also noted that her headphones were hanging around her shoulders. Ah, that explained why Molly hadn’t answered their messages, she hadn’t heard the text tone and thus she was unaware that she received any. Molly hated cleaning almost as much as he did; he recalled that she often danced around in very little clothing to bloody awful music to make the mundane task of tidying up more bearable. The reason why was lost on him but he never minded, after all it wasn’t him cleaning and he found he appreciated the view not that he was going to admit that aloud anytime soon. He turned to look at John who had both hands clapped over his eyes while chanting apologies. Why was John apologizing and shielding his eyes? It was just Molly….

Oh. Oh! Of course, Molly wasn't wearing much and he supposed it was inappropriate to stare at your flat mate’s girlfriend when she was wearing so little clothing. He knew John was fiercely loyal and Molly adored him, so he had nothing to be concerned about. However that didn’t stop a strange feeling from stirring in his gut as he watched Molly turn around now wrapping herself in one of his dressing gowns while John’s now uncovered eyes lingered too long on her now covered legs. Sherlock didn’t know what the feeling was or why he was feeling it, all he did know was that he did not like it. Somehow in all the embarrassing confusion neither John nor Molly had noticed Sherlock. Any other time this might have been an amusing situation, but in his present state all Sherlock wanted was to sleep, eat something, collect his pathologist – girlfriend - he really should just call her that after all that’s what she was, and shag her right into the mattress. It didn’t matter what order those events happened just as long as they did, he would be in a much more pleasant mood. He cleared his throat loudly alerting them to his presence. John looked at him almost sheepishly informing Sherlock of something he already knew, 

“M-Molly’s okay!” 

“Yes, John I have eyes I can see that,” Sherlock shot back, glaring at his flustered friend. 

“Oh Sherlock,” Molly breathed finally noticing him standing there. “I’m so sorry I didn’t hear my phone. I’m happy you’re back in one piece, you’ll have to tell me a-” 

But that’s as far as she got because Sherlock stepped forward to stand in-between Molly and John. He lightly grasped Molly’s upper arms, pulled her to him, bent down, and slanted his mouth against her own. Molly was surprised for the second time that night, although she found she rather liked this one. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed herself against him, and returned his kiss with enthusiasm. Sherlock’s hands left their place on her shoulders to bury themselves in her hair tilting Molly’s head back slightly, she sighed and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth to twist and twine with her own. 

John now watched with mild amusement. Thinking that if Sherlock were any other man John would assume he was putting on a show of claiming Molly. John had never witnessed such a display of passion between the two of them. It looked as though Sherlock was trying to snog Molly’s face off and she didn’t seem to mind, giving as good as she got. Oh hell he didn’t know what was going on anymore all he did know was he had reached his limit, he was exhausted, sore, hungry, and he missed Mary. 

“Um…well…yeah I’ll just go now. Cheers.” John stated flatly and gestured awkwardly toward his room, although neither Sherlock nor Molly were listening to him. John did what he wanted to do in the first place and made a hasty retreat. 

Breathing maybe boring but at this point it was necessary. Sherlock pulled back smoothing her hair and smirking down at her. She still had her eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, and her breathing was laboured. He always enjoyed seeing her like this. 

Opening her eyes she gazed up at him dazed and a bit confused. Generally she was only party to this type of affection when they were alone. 

“Well that was some kind of greeting, not that I’m complaining, but what exactly was that for?” Molly asked quietly.

Sherlock frowned slightly but responded, “You’re my girlfriend. I was under the distinct impression that I’m allowed to kiss you. Not good?” 

“Oh no- I mean that was very good…actually,” Molly replied now smiling warmly up at him, realizing this was the first time he called her his girlfriend rather than his pathologist. If Molly was being honest with herself she wasn’t sure which one made her happier. 

She was just about to comment on him using that specific term when she was once again interrupted, this time by Sherlock’s hands undoing the belt of her dressing gown, dipping his fingers in the waistband of her knickers.

“Are those for me?”

Molly looked down at where his fingertips were teasing her skin doing her best not to shiver. She was once again confused. He knew why she wore them, she had explained it to him before, it was entirely possible he had deleted that information, after all it wasn’t pertinent. Just as she was about to open her mouth she caught the look in his eyes, that git, he remembered, and was teasing her. Two could play this game. She slid her hand down to join his, interlacing their fingers. She tilted her head slightly looking up at him grinning,

“Maybe,” she whispered pulling their entwined hand out from her knickers. 

She used her free hand to caress his cheek, her thumb rubbing the thin darkened skin under one of his eyes. She raised herself up on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth against his, but pulled away before he could do anything about it. At that Sherlock looked down at her and pouted, realizing Molly was on to him, he looked so childish in that moment Molly couldn’t help but giggle as she lead them toward their bedroom for some much needed rest.


End file.
